


Luck of a Crow

by Sarah1281



Series: Dragon Age Character Prompts [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Backstory, One Shot, old fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-03
Updated: 2015-09-03
Packaged: 2018-04-18 19:05:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 14,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4717112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sarah1281/pseuds/Sarah1281
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zevran was born into slavery and lived to die but somehow fate always seemed to have other plans for him. Through his darker moments to his most unsuccessful assassination ever, he always came back in one piece.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. He'll Do Anything For Love But That

Zevran Arainai knew that he was in trouble when he saw Ahria Tabris – his very own Grey Warden and the current Hero of Ferelden to boot – nod determinedly and begin to approach him. She had been watching him indecisively for the past twenty minutes and as Ahria was usually quite a bit bolder than that, it was clear that this wasn't going to be an easy conversation.

Sure enough, Ahria began hesitantly. "Zevran…you know how I said that I loved you just as you were and would never ever want to change you in any way ever?"

"I do remember something along those lines," Zevran confirmed. "Although I think that you through in a few more 'evers.' Why?"

Now Ahria looked as though she'd rather be facing down the Archdemon again than continue with what she was planning on saying. "It's just that I might have spoken a bit prematurely…"

Zevran's heart sank. He had actually been careful to keep the possibility that this might happen in his mind from the moment she had first kissed him but things had just been going so well – or at least he had thought that they had – and so he had finally started to believe that…but no. He really should have known better. "I see," he said slowly, his tone deceptively light. "I can't say that I didn't expect this and I want you to know that I wish you nothing but the best-"

Ahria put her hand on his arm. "I think you may have gotten the wrong idea here. I'm not trying to break up with you."

Zevran blinked. "You're not?" That was very good news indeed – although it might take some time before he got past this break-up scare – but now he was just confused.

Ahria shook her head firmly. "No, of course not! I do love you, I just…Shianni and Soris are being absolutely insufferable about something and they've gotten others to join in and it's driving me crazy."

"And this has something to do with me and the fact that you told me that you never wanted me to change?" Zevran surmised.

Looking rather sheepish, Ahria nodded. "It's just…your hair."

Zevran automatically brought his fingers up to run through his hair. "My…hair?"

Ahria pointedly stared at a spot two feet above his head as she explained, "Some time ago, Soris decided to tell everyone that you had a feminine hairstyle and since you wear your hair long and many of the men in the Alienage don't do that, they quickly decided to start teasing me about it."

Zevran raised an eyebrow. "Soris, really? He's hardly one to judge other's romantic interests given that he is involved with a human. And while that may not matter so much to me, it is something of a scandal among the elven communities I've come across."

"I think all the heat he's been taking over that is why he won't let this go to be honest," Ahria confided. "Now, normally this wouldn't be so bad but it's been going on and on and on. Quite frankly, I'm thoroughly sick of it."

"So what do you want me to do about it?" Zevran asked, not quite understanding what she was asking.

"If you could maybe change your hairstyle…?" Ahria suggested.

Zevran stared at her, unable to believe what she was asking. "You want me to change my hairstyle. Because people are teasing you and it's annoying."

"Just a little!" Ahria hastened to clarify. "Maybe you could put it up in a ponytail or something."

"Yes, because I'm sure that that would do wonders to convince them that I don't have a feminine hairstyle," Zevran deadpanned. "I really can't believe you're even asking me this."

"I would change my hairstyle for you!" Ahria declared dramatically.

"That's good to know," Zevran told him, chuckling. "Except why in the world would I ask you to change your hairstyle for me?"

"Would you have thought I might have a reason to ask you to change yours until two minutes ago?" Ahria countered.

"No," Zevran said quite truthfully. "And I know that I said that I would do anything for you, my love, but it would appear that I spoke prematurely as well."

"Oh, why not?" Ahria demanded. "They're not going to let this drop anytime soon, you know."

"I like my hairstyle," Zevran informed her. "I think that it looks dignified and it's a good look for me. I also think that by this point you really should be past letting some persistent teasing affect your behavior. Besides, it's not like I've been hearing any of these comments."

"Well, that's because you're a former assassin and they'd be too terrified to do so," Ahria explained.

"And you're the only person to ever end a Blight and live," Zevran pointed out.

Ahria shook her head. "That's different. I grew up with these people. They could never be scared of me."

"I suppose that will have to bring you comfort as you valiantly ignore their cruel remarks then," Zevran said breezily.

Ahria crossed her arms and pouted. "Alistair would have done it."

"He should do it," Zevran opined. "That current style of his…" he shuddered. "Reminds me too much of Taliesin…"


	2. First Kiss

Alistair was still grinning goofily a full twenty minutes after Anastasia had left him. From what Zevran had been able to tell (though Alistair was strangely reluctant to discuss the matter) he was a virgin and so if that had finally changed then perhaps he could understand such prolonged and unabashed glee. He had certainly seen other men celebrate in similar fashions although he hadn't been so inclined after his first time.

"Ah, my dear friend," Zevran said jovially as he approached the warden.

Alistair, so caught up was he in whatever was going on in his head, jumped. "Oh, uh, Zevran. Did you need something?"

"No, not particularly," Zevran said breezily. "So good of you to ask, however."

"Then why did you come over here?" Alistair asked confused.

"What?" Zevran asked innocently. "I can't simply wish to bond with one of the prettiest Grey Wardens I have the pleasure to be travelling with?"

"There are only two Grey Wardens that you're travelling with," Alistair pointed out. "Me and Anastasia."

"True, so I suppose that's really not that much of a compliment," Zevran mused. "I would change that to 'one of the prettiest Grey Wardens I know' but I never made it a habit to associate with your order before this mission."

"I…see," Alistair said, clearly feeling this to be a good thing given Zevran's assassin upbringing.

"So you appear to be in a good mood," Zevran noted. "Any particular reason?"

"What?" Alistair practically squawked. He cleared his throat and tried again. "What? No, no reason."

"It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I just saw Anastasia over here?" Zevran pressed.

Alistair colored. "You saw that? Well, let's have it."

"Have what?" Zevran asked, tilting his head slightly.

"Oh, you know," Alistair said, trying to cover his embarrassment. "The jokes, the teasing…if you don't hurry it up I might turn as red as I can get without you even having to say a word."

"Now that would certainly be a sight," Zevran considered slowly. "But I see no reason to do any such thing. Really, Alistair, it wounds me that you think so little of me."

"Wait, it's not-I'm not trying to insult you or anything," Alistair insisted, running a hand through his hair. "I just would have expected you to give me a hard time. You seem to do that about everything else and to everyone else."

"Why Alistair!" Zevran exclaimed, greatly amused. "I would never stoop so low as to mock someone at the beginning of a great romance!"

"You wouldn't?" Alistair asked, confused.

"No, no, no," Zevran assured him. "So she kissed you?"

The goofy grin was back. "Yeah. I think it went rather well but it's not like I have anything to judge it by. She's mentioned that she has, though, and she seemed pleased."

Zevran couldn't help the smirk that formed on his lips. "Are you, dear Alistair, by any chance telling me that I had the unexpected pleasure of witnessing your first kiss?"

Alistair winced. "Hey, I thought you said you weren't going to give me a hard time!"

"Who's giving anyone a hard time?" Zevran retorted. "I just asked a simple question. I will take your lack of a response as a yes, of course. And let me tell you that I find the matter decidedly adorable."

"Adorable?" Alistair repeated, looking a bit shocked that the assassin had used that word.

"But of course," Zevran assured him. "And since you seem the good little Chantry boy type then I'm going to have to assume that if this is your first time being kissed then you also haven't had very much experience with certain other fun 'grown-up' past-times."

Alistair turned a darker shade of red. "No, I haven't. Why?" he asked suspiciously.

"Well, as you may or may not be aware I am quite well versed in all of them, including several that I do not believe are even legal here in Ferelden," Zevran informed him. "So if you would, at any point in time, like some advice or even pointers – or you think that Anastasia might – then I would be happy to-"

"No!" Alistair practically shouted. "I mean, no, I think I've got it under control."

"Are you sure?" Zevran asked, sounding concerned. "Because if you're not then I can always-"

"I'm quite sure," Alistair said firmly.

Zevran shrugged. "Suit yourself."

With that, he left Alistair to futilely recapture the magic of his first kiss while he went off to go find Wynne. It wouldn't do to spend too much time teasing the same person or his words might get less effective. Well, that or they might attempt to kill him. Really, neither scenario was particularly desirable.

Wynne looked up as he approached her. "Yes?" she asked cautiously.

Zevran smiled winningly at her. "Say that I believed that murder was wrong…"


	3. Rogue Specializations

"I'm just saying that it seems kind of limiting," Leliana said again.

Zevran tilted his head. "Really? How so. Assassinating seems to be the most efficient way of eliminating your enemies."

"Yes, I'll admit that assassination is certainly very useful and that in my work as a bard I had to employ some assassination skills here and there but versatility is never a bad thing…" Leliana trailed off as something new occurred to her. "Well, as long as you make sure that you fully understand everything you're doing and don't just learn bits and pieces of different methods."

"I suppose I can see your point," Zevran said agreeably. "Even in Antiva, assassinating people is not always so simple as wandering up to their current location and slipping poison into their food when no one is looking or slitting their throats as they sleep. Other skills come in handy – such as the ability to impersonate a cook – and outside of Antiva I have heard that that is even more true. Certainly my first time out of the country is proving to require more of me than basic assassinations."

"So can you do some of the other roguish crafts? Have you tried your hand at any of the bardic arts, perhaps? Or learned anything about being a ranger or a duelist?" Leliana inquired.

"My friend Isabela – you remember her, yes? – tried to teach me dueling once," Zevran replied.

Leliana wrinkled her nose. "I do, in fact, remember her. The pirate captain."

Zevran nodded. "Yes, though she wasn't then. This was back during my own pirate days when she was the wife of my target. She said that fighting with quickness and wit was far more valuable than fighting with brute force and, being an elf and an assassin, I was quick to agree. She had nothing better to do and so she offered to teach me."

"How did that go?" Leliana wanted to know.

Zevran smirked. "That was certainly a very productive couple of days and some of my fonder memories."

"So you're a duelist, then?" Leliana asked, surprised.

"Now, I didn't say that," Zevran told her. "We got a lot done but not so much on the dueling front. It seemed that every time we started a lesson she ended up the naughty school mistress…"

"I see. I suppose it is rather difficult to learn something from someone you're sleeping with," Leliana conceded.

Zevran's eyebrows shot up. "Speaking from personal experience, are we?"

"What a thing to ask," Leliana replied, dodging the question. "Did you try any other specializations?"

"A fellow assassin named Taliesin developed an interest in animals a few years back and decided to become a ranger," Zevran revealed. "He could summon an animal to fight by his side seemingly out of thin air. We did mock him quite a bit for it since it so strongly resembled the princesses of children's stories but he insisted that the usefulness more than made up for the taunting he had to deal with."

"And he decided to teach you?" Leliana guessed.

Zevran nodded. "He decided to teach me," he confirmed. "He told me all about how the wolf, the spider, and the bear were the three most basic animals to summon and I think I even managed to call a wolf to me once. Unfortunately for our lessons, Taliesin had a slight fetish for naughty schoolboys. Again, his time attempting to teach me to be a ranger was very productive but I cannot say that I learned much."

"Well of course you're never going to learn anything if you keep sleeping with your instructor before they teach it to you!" Leliana exclaimed. "That's it, I'm going to teach you some of the bardic arts."

Zevran wiggled his eyebrows at her and grinned rakishly. "Why, my dear Leliana! If I had known that you were interested-"

"I'm not going to have sex with you," Leliana told him promptly. "I am going to teach you to sing."

Zevran opened his mouth.

"And not like that!" Leliana hastened to add. "A non-Orlesian bard already has a distinct advantage as no one would suspect a bard from elsewhere as being anything more than a mere minstrel. Most of the bardic arts, seducing a target, dirty fighting, stealth, larceny, and killing you already know, of course. That really just leaves story-telling, singing, and playing an instrument. I don't actually have any instruments with me at present so that's right out but we can work on the other parts."

"You know," Zevran told her slyly. "I'm really not sure that I do have seducing a target down. Sure, I've slept with my fair share of them but they were usually well aware that I was an assassin come to kill them and so I'm sure it wasn't as…elegantly done as a bard might do it."

"It's not happening," Leliana said flatly. "And I don't care how hot you find a naughty schoolmistress/naughty schoolboy dynamic."

"You're so cruel…" Zevran lamented. "But as you like."

"I use several different types of songs in the course of my fighting," Leliana continued. "As far as non-combat purposes go, that really falls more within the context of being able to tell a good story and choosing to sing it instead of simply talking about it. Singing a song of valor about ancient heroes tends to inspire allies and cause them to rejuvenate faster while an all-out performance can often confuse enemies."

"I can see why if you're going to be breaking into song in the middle of a battle," Zevran agreed.

"A song of courage about what my allies have done personally in the past gives them more confidence in themselves and as such improves their performance in battle and captivating song stops enemies in their tracks for a few seconds as they listen spellbound," Leliana finished. "Before you can learn any of these, however, I have to be able to hear how you sing. Try a few bars with me. La la la…"

Zevran dutifully did as she asked, only to quickly stop at the look on Leliana's face. "What? Did I do something wrong?"

Leliana slowly shook her head. "No, nothing like that. You just…wow, you are not very skilled at singing, are you?"

Zevran shrugged. "I wouldn't know, having never sung in front of anyone before. Would that make my budding bardic career impossible?"

"It would certainly put a damper on it, yes," Leliana agreed. "You could still tell stories, of course, but unless you can sing them properly then it will be completely useless in battle."

"So what am I to do about my lack of ability at being a bard and my lack of knowledge about being a ranger or a duelist?" Zevran asked her. "Should I just forget the whole thing and stick to being an assassin?"

"Well, I'm afraid I don't know much about dueling or being a ranger as my secondary craft was assassination," Leliana confided. "But Ahria did learn how to duel from Isabela, remember? And she's been summoning animals since before I even met her. Maybe she can help."

Zevran's eyes lit up. "Oh, what a wonderful idea! Our assassination lessons were so very productive, after all…"

As he sauntered off to go find Ahria, Leliana resigned herself to the fact that he'd probably never learn another roguish craft.


	4. Friendship

Zevran eyed the post-coronation celebration speculatively. He doubted that anyone would try anything here but in his experience he found that there was no such thing as too careful and even so much as believing that there could be was enough to get you killed.

His eyes eventually fell upon the Hero of Ferelden herself, Sereda Brosca. Sereda hadn't so much as looked Alistair or Anora's way since she had received her boon – aid for the dwarven people, surprisingly enough – and he couldn't say that he was surprised. Her break-up with Alistair was pretty fresh, after all, and so making polite small-talk with her ex-boyfriend or his lucky betrothed would be like rubbing salt into the wound.

Sereda had spent quite awhile talking to her sister and the smile on her face then was genuine. The moment she turned away, however, there was a certain hollowness in her eyes that Zevran wasn't sure anyone else recognized but that he knew quite well. She caught him staring and headed over his way.

"I can't believe it's over," she told him, not sounding nearly as happy as one would have expected given that they were no longer in danger of being eaten by darkspawn or executed as traitors to the Crown.

"Neither can I but I suppose that it had to end sooner or later, one way or another," Zevran replied. "Have you given any thought to what you'll be doing next?"

"I've been doing nothing but that since the moment I jammed my sword into the Archdemon's brain and killed it," Sereda replied, almost bitterly. "Anora and Eamon want me to stay at court. They say I'll have much influence. I'm a sodding duster, what do I know about using influence? They say I'll learn but I don't think I can stand to be around all of this. There's been talk of making me Arlessa of Amaranthine, you know. I honestly don't care enough about Ferelden or politics to even try me hand at that. Then, of course, Rica wants me to go back to Orzammar with her. She sees this as a fairy-tale ending. Her son is the only child of the king and now she's a noble herself. She says we could finally be happy there but there's just too many memories. Even though I literally decided Orzammar's fate, they still won't acknowledge I even existed before I underwent the Joining. Those people are not my people and that place is not my home. I don't want to go back."

"You keep talking about what other people want you to do," Zevran observed. "But you've yet to mention what you want to do?"

Sereda looked thoughtful. "I haven't, have I? You might be the first person who has ever thought to ask me that. Everyone else has just told me what I ought to do but I've been doing what they think I should for as long as I can remember. Keep your head down, join the carta, go with the Grey Warden, save Ferelden…I don't know what I want to do," she admitted, sounding almost desperate. "I almost wish that I could disappear."

"I know the feeling," Zevran admitted. "Both feelings. I'm rather new to this whole freedom thing, too, if you'll recall."

"Taliesin died over a month ago so I think you're a bit more experienced with this whole concept of freedom than I am," Sereda pointed out.

"Since my first decision was to continue following you around, I'm not that much more experienced," Zevran countered. "Well…not about that, at any rate. There are a lot of ways to disappear, you know. You could be assassinated – but I am not about to let that happen – you could be kidnapped, or you could even just decide to take off in the middle of the night without telling anybody and leave them to run around like chickens with their heads cut off looking for you."

"That sounds chaotic," Sereda remarked. "I like it."

"So is that your plan?" Zevran asked her bluntly. "Are you just going to take off in the middle of the night and not tell anyone where you're going?"

Sereda shrugged. "I don't know. I might. There's nothing for me here, or in Amaranthine, and certainly not in Orzammar. It doesn't feel like there's anything for me anywhere but Thedas is a big place and I guess I shouldn't write it all off until I go there personally."

"Oh, how daring," Zevran teased before his expression turned serious. "Take me with you."

Sereda drew back, surprised. "What?"

"Take me with you," Zevran repeated dutifully.

"Zevran…I told you, I'm not going to hold you to any stupid oath you made me. I told you that you were free to go and I meant it," Sereda said firmly.

"That is all very well and good but I meant it when I told you that I intended to stick around," Zevran replied seriously.

"But what about the Crows?" Sereda reminded him.

"I think the Crows will have a much harder time tracking me down if I'm sneaking around Thedas than if I were to openly stay in any one place," Zevran told her. "And staying with you is really far safer than wandering about on my own. The Crows are scared of you, remember?"

Sereda was clearly fighting a grin at that. "I don't want you to feel that you're obligated to take care of me just because I don't know what I'm doing or because I saved you."

"It's not an obligation, believe me," Zevran assured her. "I told you that if I were with you then I would willingly storm the gates of the Dark City itself and I meant it. I still do."

Sereda snorted. "I think we can be friends without you having to go quite that far."

"Maybe, but if there's one thing that you've taught me it's that friendship can mean whatever it is that we want it to mean. I've always wanted to travel. I want to travel with you. That's my definition of friendship," Zevran declared.

Sereda stood silent for a moment before nodding slowly. "Alright then. I may end up regretting this but…you can come with me."

"Oh, excellent," Zevran said gleefully. "Laughing at all those panicky Fereldens will be far more fun together than alone, after all."


	5. Poetry

The target's name was Gianna. Zevran had been told her last name as well, of course, but he was – as always – far more interested in the first name. One never knew when a target was going to be the seducing kind, after all, and calling out a surname in the throes of passion – or worse, getting the name wrong – was really not the kind of reputation Zevran wanted to cultivate. Granted, his targets wouldn't be living long enough to tell anyone anything about his performance good or bad but it was just good practice and a matter of personal and professional pride to maintain the same standards of quality at all time.

Gianna was a very lovely young women which was, paradoxically, both his favorite and least favorite kind of target. On the one hand, it allowed him to spend some time with a beautiful woman and perhaps sleep with her. On the other, he would shortly have to rid the world of such an attractive creature. Truly, the life of an assassin was a trying one. Gianna had long, golden blonde hair. He had observed her earlier that day and it had been done up tightly in braids but now it was loose and her curls were all over the place giving her a pleasing windblown look. Her eyes were a shimmering silver and her mouth was full and red.

She had not quite been asleep when he had entered her home and the moment she had realized what he was and why he had come, she had wasted no time in trying to distract him. Why she thought he was that absent-minded that if they simply didn't talk abut him killing her it didn't happen was beyond him and honestly a little insulting but he had very much enjoyed the tour of her home and being personally introduced to all of her fish all the same. She had some very nice men's clothes that he had been allowed to try on and he had caught her staring more than once while he was changing. That was always promising.

"So what do you know about poetry?" Gianna asked him once they were sitting on her couch together. She had a glass of wine in her hand but though she had offered some to Zevran as well, he wasn't about to risk being poisoned by his target because he hadn't killed her right away. It really was an embarrassing way to die and if that didn't kill him, the Crows certainly would for the indignity.

"I know a good poem when I hear one," Zevran replied. Strictly speaking, he knew nothing at all of poetry but he was firmly of the belief that if a poem was a good one then he wouldn't need any knowledge of poetry or special education in order to appreciate. If a taste was an acquired one that simply meant it wasn't very good in the first place and thus one had to build up a tolerance for it before they could pretend to like it.

Gianna smiled seductively at him and began in a breathy voice, "The symphony I see in thee / it whispers songs to me. Songs of hot breath upon my neck / songs of soft grunts by my head / songs of hands on muscled back / songs of thee come to my bed."

Now, Zevran could see very clearly that she intended to sleep with him. He should have just let it go and do so. Tragically, a laugh burst out of him before he could help it.

Gianna, who had been running her hand down his leg, drew back, offended. "Was there something funny about my poem?"

"Just a little," Zevran admitted. "That's not a very good poem, you know."

Gianna flushed angrily. "And here I thought that you knew nothing about poetry."

"I don't," Zevran agreed. "Except to be able to tell a good one from a bad one and that, my dear, is a bad one."

"Well I just made it up on the spot," Gianna said defensively.

"That excuses you, I suppose, from being thought of as a poor poetess," Zevran remarked. "But it doesn't make the poem any nicer."

"I'd like to see you do better, Mr. Crow," Gianna challenged.

Zevran shrugged his assent. How hard could it be?

"It is not hard to judge skill, you know

Your talent is really a no-show

Rather than prolong this hunt

Let me be perfectly blunt

If you want to have sex, just say so."

Gianna sat there staring at him for a moment before bursting into laughter. "And what was that? A limerick of some sort?"

Zevran shrugged again. "Something like that, yes. I fear I may have broken all sorts of stylistic rules but I find myself strangely indifferent. I remembered to use five lines and I remembered that the rhyme scheme was AABBA and that's good enough for me."

"I guess I did recognize that it was supposed to be a limerick," Gianna agreed. "I'm not sure that I'd say it was better than mine, though."

"No?" Zevran asked rhetorically. "Know, show, and so all rhyme and I'm not cheating by using both forms of know. Hunt and blunt are also very clear rhymes. You rhyme neck with back."

"Well…maybe those don't technically rhyme…it's close enough," Gianna claimed. "And at least I got my chosen style right."

"So you claim," Zevran pointed out. "My lack of poetic training means I really have no idea."

"We can call it a draw," Gianna offered. "And say that our poems were equally good."

"Or equally bad," Zevran amended. "And that means I wouldn't have done better but…why not?"

"Oh, how accommodating," Gianna said, her voice becoming breathless again. "You know, I may not have learned much from my poetry tutor but he was one of the best-looking men I've ever seen. As such, every time I start talking poetry it gets me all hot. You want me to just come right out and be blunt? Take me, I'm yours."

As Zevran helpfully began to oblige her, he decided that maybe that poem wasn't so bad after all. It was certainly going to make the next few hours far more enjoyable for the both of them than they would have been otherwise. He'd have to remember those lines Gianna had said just in case.


	6. "Do you stare at everyone like that?"

"Do you stare at everyone like that?" the Warden asked quietly. Zevran could certainly understand her hesitance. Caunira Surana had spent most of her life in a dank, isolated tower and had no memories of the outside from before she had been recruited into the Grey Wardens. She wouldn't talk about what had happened but he had gathered that it involved some sort of blood magic scandal although he'd yet to see any evidence that she possessed any such talents.

At the Circle Tower, there had been only templars who were not supposed to get involved with mages and her fellow mages that she could gotten involved with. Of the mages, there was only one who had stood out to her as being at all spirited enough to be worth considering. Tragically – well, for her – he was a human which was a deal-breaker in and of itself and he was prone to chronically escaping so getting too close to him would have made her life there difficult so she had made sure to keep her distance and not allow herself to become too attached. Caunira was not at all experienced when it came to flirting and sex (although quite adept at turning people down if what he'd seen with Alistair and Leliana was any indication) and it showed in her question.

Most of the people he had known and been with would stare back unabashedly and begin to move towards sex or even simply jump him if they weren't the patient sort. Something told him that that wouldn't go over very well with Caunira and he did not wish to anger her for several reasons. She was his only protection against the Crows now that he had failed to kill her, of course, as well as the fact that she was a powerful mage and virgins were rarely interested in angry sex.

Did he stare at everybody the way he stared at her? It wasn't like he had a mirror with him so he could see how, exactly, he stared at her and he hadn't had to practice his stare for quite some time and so he wasn't entirely sure though he rather doubted it. When he was a child growing up in an Antivan whorehouse, he had had just one stare: that of a resigned boy who watched other boys only a little older than him being sold off to many anonymous men and, occasionally, broken by them. He had seen the stares that they and many of the women of the whorehouse had used to entice their customers but, unlike with the massages he'd been taught, he had simply absorbed it and made no effort to make it his own.

When Zevran was seven he was sold himself but not to horny men – and sometimes women – but rather to the illustrious Antivan Crows. Zevran had been terrified at the prospect of being an assassin but he had seen them around sometimes, oftentimes in the very whorehouse he had grown up in, and they were all confident, powerful men. He had truly been lucky to escape the fate of the other whore-bred boys. Of course, such power and prestige did not come easily and the Crows training started to produce their first casualties in a little less than a year. That was when Zevran learned his second stare. The Crows didn't want horror at death or weepy sentimentalism. They didn't want fear and they didn't want individualism. They had taught him to gaze impassively no matter what new sight lay before his eyes. It was a very useful skill, that, and it had saved his life on more than one occasion.

The years passed and Zevran had excelled in his training. He had thrown himself into it, naturally, desperate to survive and eager to excel at something other than looks which, given his species, were something that had always drawn people to him. Just because he wanted to be recognized for something besides that was no reason not to cultivate his innate talents, however, especially seeing as how seduction was such a useful tool for an assassin. That was when he developed his third stare. It had taken him more hours than he cared to admit practicing in front of a mirror and feeling very foolish and not at all enticed but eventually he had managed to take his half-forgotten memories from his years in the whorehouse and turn it into the kind of stare that almost without exception lured whoever he used it on into his bed. His targets, his superiors, Taliesin, Rinna…

Zevran was afraid that if he tried his usual alluring gaze on Caunira then she'd become spooked and he'd miss his chance with her. She looked a little like Rinna which both made him even more eager to pursue her and yet strangely reluctant. Caunira was not Rinna, he sternly reminded himself, and she would not meet the same fate. If nothing else, she had proven the ability to best him so even if he tried to kill her (again) she would be able to survive it. The Warden was his newest master but, unlike all of his previous ones, she didn't seem to know what to do with him. If she had asked, Zevran would have had plenty of suggestions but she never did. She just talked to him for hours on end about his past and hers and genuinely seemed interested in getting to know him. If only for the sake of making sure that he wasn't planning on trying his hand at killing her again, Zevran could understand the use of that.

How did he stare at her? He had caught himself staring several times – notably, right before she had asked him that question – and though he lacked the ability to see how it appeared to her, his gaze felt different than it ever had before. Almost everything with her felt different than it had before. A new country, a new and nobler purpose, a new game to play…he wasn't quite sure what to make of it yet. But he did know one thing, at least.

"Not everyone."


	7. Reunion

Ferelden had not been at all what Zevran had been expecting, to put it mildly. He had volunteered for the contract on the Grey Warden so that he could see if he could find a way out of the Crow-dominated rut he'd found himself in. Maybe he'd wind up dead, maybe succeeding at a task everyone else had shied away from would give him some validation at last – validation he desperately need ever since Rinna had just stared up at him while….

One outcome that he had never expected because it was so far beyond anything he'd ever experienced was that the Grey Warden would have woken him up, questioned him more or less civilly, and – upon learning that he would not go after Loghain – decide to simply let him go. Sure, Zevran could attempt to kill the Warden again but he thought that that might be pushing his luck and all of his men were dead, anyway. He was just going to have to try to live with his failure…something that would be a lot easier far from Antiva. It would also be a lot easier if the Blight engulfing the land really had been a myth like that man Howe had said.

Still, Zevran would rather face darkspawn than the Crows and he doubted very much that the monsters of legend could make him regret ever having been born as much as the Crows did. Could. He meant could. Since Zevran was going to be hiding in Ferelden for the foreseeable future, he had decided to seek out another group of elves to blend in with. He had never fit in with the Dalish and so he'd come to an Alienage. He had been roughly halfway between the Denerim Alienage and the one in Highever when he'd decided this but he had heard all about the chaos going on in Highever since the new Teyrn had taken over and wanted no part in it.

The Denerim Alienage had been no better. He had been there for only a few short hours and quickly realized that he should get out of there. The elves were rioting and that wouldn't end well no matter how many people had been abducted for what purpose. Unfortunately, before he had time to leave, that Teyrn from Highever – Howe, it turned out – had claimed the mantle of the Arl of Denerim as well and sent troops into the Alienage. It was…horrible and it was months before the gates to the Alienage had been open again.

He had just learned of his newfound freedom (there didn't seem to be much of it even here in Ferelden) and started towards the gates before they could change their minds and keep him trapped in here. To his great surprise, Taliesin of all people stood, arms crossed and smirking, framed in the gateway.

Zevran had stood there staring stupidly for a moment before he caught himself. He hadn't been away from the Crows for that long. "Taliesin? What are you doing here?"

"I think the better question is what are you doing here in an Alienage," Taliesin returned.

"I had only just stopped by when the gates were closed and I had no way of getting out for months," Zevran explained. "The soldiers were too on the look-out for rioters. Now, what brings you to Ferelden?"

"You know that Grey Warden you were hired to assassinate?" Taliesin asked rhetorically. "It turns out that he's not quite dead yet and professionalism requires him to be so I volunteered to go investigate the matter. Opinion's pretty divided on whether you died or tried to run away and I really don't think anyone would have expected this."

Zevran had been trying to run away but, much like with the Dalish, he actually found life with the Crows preferable than remaining here. "So what are you going to do now that you found me?"

Taliesin eyed him suggestively. Really, Zevran might have known he'd take it that way. "I was thinking that we could just go and assassinate the Warden together and then hurry back to Antiva before the darkspawn kill everyone. I'm not sure how you'll explain being unreachable for so long – because the truth is really embarrassing – but I'm sure that between the two of us we can think of something."

Taliesin was always trying to find ways to save Zevran from his own choices. It was rather un-Crow-like and that was why it meant so much to him. "I'm sure we will," he agreed. "But until we actually kill the Warden then neither of us can go back so there's little point in thinking of a cover story until the job is actually done."

"True enough," Taliesin nodded. "So you're in luck. The Warden is actually in town right now which is how I was able to find you."

"He is?" Zevran asked curiously. "That sounds reckless. Is he still an outlaw or did that change while I was…busy?"

"He's still an outlaw," Taliesin confirmed. "But another noble has called one of those quaint Ferelden 'Landsmeets' to challenge the regent's right to the throne and aims to put the Warden on it instead."

"We'll need to hurry then," Zevran remarked. "How long do we have?"

"The Landsmeet is to take place two days from today," Taliesin revealed. "Technically, I suppose we could do this anytime before the coronation which will likely take place after the Blight but I don't want to stay in a Blighted country any longer than I have to and there's every chance that the Warden will die in the Blight which I'm not sure we could take credit for."

"And should he manage to become king then he'll likely be far harder to kill," Zevran added.

"I have it on good authority that the Warden is on his way to our client's Denerim estate right now in order to meet up with the current queen," Taliesin announced. "We can ambush him there and then we can go home. Both of us."

This wasn't exactly the way that Zevran had expected his trip to Ferelden to end or, if he was being honest with himself, the way he wanted it to but it seemed that, once again, the Crows proved to be the only place he belonged."Let's go then."


	8. A Zevran Holiday

The date was the thirteenth of Guardian and the place was Antiva City. The ancient celebration of Lupercalia had just begun and would continue for two days and Zevran wouldn't miss it for the world. Some of the ways that Lupercalia was celebrated were a bit bizarre in his expert opinion, such as when two young boys were c hosen to be the 'Luperci.' These Luperci were led to an alter, had t heir foreheads anointed with sacrificial blood from one dog and two goats (the bloodied knife was wiped off with wool soaked in milk), and then called upon to laugh and smile before being dressed in the skin of the goats. Then the two boys were each given a thong made of the goats' flesh and went around the city using said thong to strike at girls and young women on the streets. Far from being offended, however, these women were thrilled and felt that in taking these blows they were being protected from sterility, the pains of childbirth would be eased, and their fertility would be on the rise. Zevran wasn't quite sure that it was healthy for these women to be so eager to be struck, even for religious purposes, but he supposed that that was really their own business.

All of that, though great for entertainment value, was not why he was so fond of Lupercalia. No, this was a celebration to get rid of evil spirits and to promote fertility. Fear of evil spirits (and the handy excuse) was good for business and all this interest in fertility was good for…other things. Many women were very eager to test out their new fertility…and so were many men. His current target? His lovely fellow assassin, Rinna.

Rinna was engrossed in throwing daggers at a tree when Zevran approached her. Though she was concentrating greatly, she noticed Zevran's presence before he got within twenty feet of her. Had he been trying to be stealthy, he might have been quite embarrassed. Rinna was a truly marvelous creature, however, with very fine assassination skills. What he wouldn't give to go on a mission with her…

"Did you need something?" Rinna asked, examining the dagger in her hand almost lazily.

"Not as such, no," Zevran told her. "I was just wondering why you were still here at this Crow compound."

"I'm training," Rinna explained unnecessarily. "Is there some reason that I shouldn't be?"

"Well, most gorgeous young women are off at the festivities," Zevran pointed out.

Rinna laughed. "Ah, yes. Those women standing around hoping that if they can get a lucky blow then they'll have a baby. I've had plenty of luck with the first but, thankfully, not so much with the second."

"I take it you don't want children?" Zevran asked, not particularly surprised. He had never really thought about the prospect of being a father – though for all he knew he was already one – and he really couldn't picture himself as changing a child's diaper and fixing it meals or whatever else he would be called upon to do for it.

Rinna shuddered at the very thought. "Maker, no. A pregnancy at this point would ruin my career and what would happen to the baby? He'd grow up a Crow or die trying. There's plenty of slaves to be bought for that purpose; they hardly need me to contribute to our ranks." Unspoken, of course, was the fact that there were no retired Crows and so if one lost the ability to assassinate before they were experienced enough to become part of the management then that was quite the problem.

"So you're not a fan of Lupercalia?" Zevran asked, a little disappointed. He could always go find somebody else but it wouldn't be nearly as much fun as it would be if it were with Rinna.

"Not of many parts of it, no," Rinna agreed. "Though I've found that with virtually any holiday, if you dig deep enough you can come up with some cause to dislike it."

"Any holiday?" Zevran repeated, snorting. "I'd say that applies really to anything."

"Have you seen Taliesin yet today?" Rinna asked suddenly.

Zevran blinked at the apparent non-sequitur. "I have not," he replied. "Why? Have you?"

Rinna nodded slowly, her dark bouncing as she did so. "I have indeed. I believe he's looking for you. He seemed to be quite interested in the festivities as well although I don't expect the two of you will have much luck."

Zevran grinned. "Perhaps not, but what is most important is that we keep trying, no?"

"I think at this point any sane man would realize that it's just not going to happen," Rinna said dryly.

"Truly? Then how fortunate that we are not sane men but Crows," Zevran said, pleased.

Rinna laughed. "You're determined to keep trying until you get a baby from somewhere, then?"

"That is the plan," Zevran agreed solemnly. "Or until we are thoroughly sick of each other, whichever comes first."

"Are you taking bets as to the outcome?" Rinna inquired. "Because if so I have some silver I'd like to lay down."

"Oh, we would," Zevran explained. "Except that the odds are so far against us that we would rob everyone blind when we won and it wouldn't do to anger so many dangerous assassins all at once, especially once we became ridiculously wealthy and thus a target."

"A shame," Rinna said, shaking her head in mock-sorrow. "Ah, well. I suppose I could never win, anyway, as all you'd have to do to keep the wager on is to refuse to admit that no matter how much you try, one of you is just not going to get pregnant."

"And there is that," Zevran admitted. "But only if we were dishonorable scoundrels. Do I look like a dishonorable scoundrel, my dear?"

Rinna tilted her head as she seemed to consider the question. "A little, but not in a bad way."

Zevran shrugged. "I can work with that."

"You know," Rinna told him, "I don't dislike all parts of Lupercalia."

Just the parts with all the tradition, it seemed. Wisely, Zevran decided not to mention that. "Oh?" he asked instead, raising an eyebrow suggestively. "And what parts do you like?"

"Well if you and Taliesin can put off your nth attempt to make a baby, we can celebrate how fertile everyone else seems to be," Rinna replied, slipping her dagger back into her pouch and turning to walk away, leaving Zevran with the oh-so-difficult choice to follow her or not.

Oh, what ever was he to do?


	9. Oghren

The Warden was just finishing up her tour of her makeshift camp when she turned to face Zevran who quickly adjusted his gaze. The Warden had already caught him staring at her twice and since only a little over an hour ago he was trying to kill her, he figured that perhaps he should start things off a little slowly. From the way that her ears kept reddening whenever she caught him looking her way, he was fairly certain that it wouldn't be long before she made a move. And she was a pretty one, too. Unfortunate looks were hardly a deterrent in his line of work, of course, but it was always nice when he got a chance to sleep with someone attractive.

"So…any questions?" the Warden asked awkwardly.

"Just one," Zevran replied, indicating the one member of her group she had yet to identify. "Who is that dwarf and what is he doing with your dog?"

The Warden frowned and followed his gaze. "Oghren!" she cried out. "You leave my dog alone!"

"Aw, come on, Warden!" the dwarf – Oghren apparently – protested, losing his hold of the mabari and falling over. "He'll make me famous!"

"No means no, Oghren," the Warden said firmly. "And he said no."

Oghren grumbled unintelligibly and the dog bounded over to the Warden. "Right, I'm going to go and make sure he's not traumatized. Come fine me if you have any more questions," she instructed.

"Oh, I most certainly will," Zevran said silkily, blinking lazily at her. The Warden flushed again and quickly hurried away.

"Hey you…" Oghren said, stumbling over towards Zevran. He was quite clearly drunk. "Elf!"

"Yes?" Zevran asked.

"You've got really small breasts for a girl," Oghren announced. "And a guy, for that matter. Course, it could just be an elf thing. I can't say I've met too many of those."

"You do realize that I am not, in fact, a girl, right?" Zevran asked, a little amused. He had, in fact, been mistaken for a girl in the past with his long hair and occasional need to pass himself off as a member of the opposite sex for a job. Usually hearing him speak in his normal voice – as he was doing now – was enough to correct their misconceptions.

"That's just what the dog thought you said!" Oghren accused.

Zevran blinked. Apparently this Oghren was either drunker than he thought or just plain…he didn't even know what. "You were speaking to the dog about my gender?"

Oghren grunted in the affirmative.

"And did the dog…speak back?" Zevran asked curiously.

Oghren barked out a laugh. "Course not, then he'd know that I was on to him!"

"But you just said-" Zevran started to say before he shook his head. "No, it's not worth it."

"What's not worth it?" Oghren demanded. "Your mom?" With that, he broke out into near hysterical laughter.

Patiently, Zevran waited for him to finish. "No, actually. Now, if there was nothing else, I think I'll be going now."

"Hold it, woman!" Oghren ordered.

Zevran sighed, wondering if it was really worth getting into this with the drunken dwarf and strongly suspecting that it wasn't. "I'm not a woman, Oghren."

"Not yet you're not," Oghren agreed. "But you will by the time old Oghren is done with you."

"That…wasn't quite what I meant," Zevran corrected him. "And believe me, I do not need anyone to make me a man; that ship has long since sailed."

"So you've got some experience, eh? That'll make things easier. Go and make yourself ready, woman! You've just wiped your feet on the Oghren doormat of loooooooove!" Oghren declared, managing to mildly disturb even a hardened assassin such as Zevran.

Zevran wondered briefly how long it had been since he had been propositioned by a drunken male dwarf who was initially under the impression that he was a girl. Oh, it had been a while. Three or four months, easily. Usually they got the picture by now, though. "Oghren, I'm a man."

Oghren stopped, confused. "A man, huh? You sure?"

"Reasonably," Zevran said dryly.

"Well, that's a surprise. Guess you never can tell with elves, huh?" Oghren said slowly. He shrugged. "Well, nobody's perfect. Go on, my tent is that way. I'll be along in a moment."

"If it's all the same to you, I think I'll pass," Zevran told him firmly, turning his gaze back to the Warden who was busy playing with that dog of hers.

"Yeah, you'll pass alright by the time I'm done with you!" Oghren declared. "Especially, you know, since…" He trailed off.

Zevran turned to glance at him after a few moments had passed to see why Oghren had stopped speaking only to discover the dwarf had passed out and was lying in a crumpled heap on the floor. In full body armor. He was most certainly going to be feeling that in the morning. It was really just as well that he hadn't been interested as Oghren was clearly not up to performing if he was even sober enough to have been able to find everything.

One person that he did hope was interested, however, chose that moment to glance his way and Zevran smiled at her. It looked like it was time for him to go get to know his new leader a little better. With any luck, she'd already realized that he was male. And if not…well, he could work with that.


	10. Crows

Zevran wasn't quite sure what was going on but he didn't like the way the man with the tattoos on his face was looking at him. The manager of the whorehouse, Loretta, was standing nearby, watching the tattooed man very carefully. Zevran didn't often see Loretta as he and the other children were usually looked after by Imelda who was too old to work like the others.

This morning, he had been woken up far earlier than usual and told to wash up despite it not being his scheduled bath day. He had also been given twice the amount of food for breakfast that he usually had after Loretta, who had appeared in the kitchen, had told everyone that he was all ribs and bones. When he and the other nine children (two girls and eight boys) were done, they had been led into a room and lined up.

That was when the man with the tattoos had shown up and started walking back and forth and looking at them. Sometimes, he'd stop and pinch one of them or open their mouth so he could examine their teeth. It was all so very strange and Zevran didn't like it when the man did it to him but no one else had said anything or squirmed and so he didn't either. He had been learning some of the things that the women did in the whorehouse (because this one only had women) and was getting quite good at the massages. Was he being taken to a whorehouse that offered boys? He was getting pretty old. At seven he was the oldest one child there. There had been some children older than him in the past, he remembered, but they had all left some time ago. He didn't know where they went or what happened to them.

Eventually, the man stopped. "I'll take both girls and the boys at either end," he declared.

Zevran was on the end.

Loretta hesitated. "The girls? But they could be raised to join our establishment and that one boy is elven."

"I'll give you three sovereign apiece for them," the man said, making it sound more like a fact than an offer.

Loretta seemed to sense this, too, and she nodded. "Very well."

The man took a fat pouch out of his pocket and quietly counted out twelve gold pieces before handing them to Loretta who quickly reached out to take the money and then drew back as if she were afraid to touch the man for any longer than was absolutely necessary.

"Come children," Loretta said, calling the boys that had not been chosen to her and then ushering them into another one. She cast one last look at the ones who had been chosen before shutting the door behind her.

Once they were alone, the man began to pace again. "My name is Damiano and I've just bought you four. This means that from now on you belong to the Antivan Crows."

Zevran had never heard of the Antivan Crows before and he didn't think that the others had either since they were all younger and had been born in the whorehouse just as he had even if their mothers were still alive.

Their confusion must have shown on their faces as Damiano continued, "The Crows are the assassins that operate in Antiva. All assassinations in this country go through us. You will be trained to become assassins yourselves. Succeed and you will live a life of luxury and privilege. Fail and you will die violently, perhaps at the hands of your fellows. That is all you need to know."

Zevran shivered slightly. That didn't sound good. He'd never killed anybody (except for his mother, a traitorous voice in the back of his head reminded him) and he didn't know how to do that. He was sure he'd end up being one of the ones violently killed. Still, he didn't have a choice about going since Loretta had been paid three whole sovereign for him. He definitely wasn't worth that much and if the Crows realized it then he was going to be hurt a lot. Maybe if he worked really hard at the training he might get lucky and not have to die after all…or at least put it off for awhile.

"I-I don't want to go!" one of the girls cried out suddenly. "I want to stay here with my mommy!"

Damiano backhanded her across the face. "None of that, now. You're never going to see your mommy again and the sooner you get used to that, the better chance you have of surviving. Make a fuss and I'll drag you out of here. Make yourself more trouble than you're worth and I'll slit your throat right now. Do I make myself clear?"

The frightened girl, held the spot where he'd smacked her and, her eyes beginning to fill with tears, nodded.

No, this definitely didn't sound like a good idea. And yet…what if he had had the choice to stay or to go? What would there be for him here? Nothing, really, and he'd just be sent off to another whorehouse soon. He'd seen the women after some of their clients had left and how quickly some of them burned out. That didn't sound like a good idea either.

A life of luxury and privilege? He couldn't even imagine. And yet…Damiano had said that if they succeeded that that's what they'd get. He could be lying but it was more than Zevran had ever thought possible. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe it would be better than what would happen to those other boys who weren't chosen.

As Damiano signaled to the four of them to follow him outside of the whorehouse and to their new home, Zevran made a silent vow to do whatever it took to be the best Crow there was. He may not have chosen this path, but he'd make the best of it. He always did.


	11. Zevran and the Dalish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "I ran off to join the famous Dalish when one of their clans drew near Antiva City. Naturally, the reality did not live up at all to the fantasies."

"Ah, Zevran, a moment of your time," Keeper Eruohan of clan Aeramiel called out as the newest member of his clan walked by. Zevran had come to them recently from the Antiva Crows and he always ended up leaving Eruohan unsettled for some reason, probably because he could never tell if the younger elf really meant what he said or not.

Zevran nodded and hurried over to him. "Of course, Keeper."

How to begin, how to begin? "You've been here for several weeks now. How do you feel you've been adjusting?" Eruohan inquired politely.

"Surprisingly well, actually," Zevran responded cheerfully. "I had expected things to be a lot harder after our first discussion but everyone's been very accommodating."

And there was the opening Eruohan had been looking for. "That's actually what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Oh, you wanted to know how friendly Clan Aeramiel has been?" Zevran asked rhetorically. "Well, rest assured that I have no complaints."

Eruohan winced at that. "That's part of the problem, I'm afraid."

Zevran's eyes narrowed, confused. "You had expected your clan to be rude? What purpose would that serve? To test how dedicated I am to the Dalish lifestyle?"

"Well, that and a fear of spies does tend to lead we Dalish to not always give newcomers the warmest of receptions," Eruohan admitted before realizing that he was starting on a tangent. "But that wasn't what I was talking about."

"Then what were you referring to?" Zevran asked.

"For the last two weeks, our hunters have not been killing in the traditional manner," Eruohan replied, careful to keep the accusation out of his voice.

Zevran looked blank. "Is this a problem? I must confess, I haven't learned enough about your ways to know if it's scandalous not to shoot them through the heart or the throat or whatever the traditional method is."

"It's not. I'm just…" the Keeper trailed off, wondering how best to put this, "concerned. The animals have all been assassinated."

"Assassinated?" Zevran repeated innocently.

Eruohan nodded gravely. "Indeed. There have been food traps left out and poisoned and my hunters have carefully scoped out their hunting grounds and then waited for hours until something wandered by and then stealthily took it out."

"How droll," Zevran remarked absently. "You said this was a problem?"

"I just really have to wonder at the timing, you understand. I had never even heard about Dalish hunting in this manner before you showed up," Eruohan explained.

"That is certainly a strange coincidence," Zevran agreed.

"Is it?" Eruohan challenged. "Is it really?"

Zevran gave him a strange look. "I suppose so. Do you disagree?"

"It seems to me like it's more likely that the assassin has brought assassination techniques to my clan," Eruohan said delicately.

"That is a sound theory, to be sure," Zevran said approvingly.

"Is that a confession?" Eruohan demanded.

"Is this an interrogation?" Zevran quickly countered.

"Just…" Eruohan sighed. "Answer the question, please."

"Some of the hunters asked me a few questions, yes, and I thought it only polite to answer them," Zevran answered obediently. "Was I not supposed to have done this?"

"I would have been happier not to see my hunters turn into assassins, especially as this is sure to cause problems the next time the clan comes into contact with humans. Still, I suppose you didn't know," Eruohan conceded reluctantly.

"I most certainly did not," Zevran agreed easily.

"But you do now," Eruohan said pointedly.

"Of course," Zevran confirmed. "Were there any other problems?"

Eruohan nodded. "Indeed. I've been receiving some very…unsettling reports. As you know, we Dalish take matters of sexual activity very seriously. It isn't even proper for a couple to give a gift before they bond, let alone engage in such activities! " he exclaimed, a trace of outrage in his voice.

"Really?" Zevran asked, blinking. "I had not heard this."

"I gathered that," Eruohan said dryly.

"So did you just want to inform me of this or was there something else?" Zevran asked politely.

"You don't feel that, in light of being made aware of this, there's something you need to tell me?" Eruohan hinted.

Zevran thought about it for a moment before shaking his head. "Not particularly. Perhaps you could give me a hint?"

Eruohan closed his eyes. "From what I understand, you've had…relations with every attractive man and woman under forty in this clan." He waited.

Eventually, Zevran spoke up. "Am I supposed to say something here?""

"An admission or – preferably – a denial would be greatly appreciated," Eruohan confirmed.

"Right. It's all true, of course," Zevran declared.

Eruohan paled. "A-all of it?"

"Well, I haven't heard everything you have so some of it might not be," Zevran clarified, "but I'm fairly confident that a great deal of it is."

"Creators!" Eruohan cried out, stunned. "Why? Just…why?"

Zevran frowned, puzzled. "Why what? Do you think I should have expanded my selections? I felt it would be mildly inappropriate to be with anyone who wasn't considered an adult but I guess I could have gone older. There are some very attract older elves, after all, and drawing the line at forty was a rather arbitrary decision."

"Believe me, I do not want you to go after those older or younger than you already have!" Eruohan said firmly.

"Then what do you want?" Zevran queried. "Would you prefer I not only pick attractive people? I suppose I could do that though it is not my preference-"

"No!" he shouted.

Zevran stared at him.

Eruohan cleared his thought. "I mean, I am asking you to stop corrupting my people. Stop seducing them no matter how willing they might be and stop teaching them to be assassins!" He took a deep breath. This went against everything he had ever believed but he felt compelled to say it. "If you cannot do that then, as painful as it is for me to say this, perhaps you might be better off in Antiva City."

Zevran looked surprised. "You…may have a point. I will have to think on this and get back to you."

As he wandered away, Eruohan discretely sent his two least attractive guards over the age of forty to follow him, just in case.


	12. Protective Zevran

Rinna had always been able to take care of herself, of course. One didn't make it to their double digits in their line of work without being reasonably self-sufficient, after all. Still, Rinna wasn't exactly the run-of-the-mill recruit. No, she was special. Her movements were so graceful that she almost danced across the battlefield and there were times when Zevran realized that she was a lot closer than he had thought she was. Her eyes gleamed with justice and her targets never saw her coming.

That was why Zevran didn't understand it, this strange need to protect Rinna. Rinna may not be as talented as he was – well, by his own admittedly biased estimation at any rate – but she was better than most and she'd never forgive him if she knew. Taliesin would never let him hear the end of it and who knew how the Crow Masters who hadn't even let him keep an old pair of Dalish gloves would handle the news? Well, he would just keep this information to himself, for everyone's sake…not to mention, of course, that he wouldn't have even known how to express the sentiment even had there not been so many, many reasons not to.

There was just something about her, though…when he saw her standing there alone he wanted to hide her away from the rest of the world. When he saw her hurting he wanted to kill whoever had done that to her. When he saw her in trouble, he had to stop himself from running to her side and fighting with her. It was really a good thing that they hadn't had any missions together because, despite how much he would enjoy their time together, he was afraid that this strange protective instinct would do something to jeopardize their goal or get one of them into trouble.

It wasn't even just a matter of him wanting to make sure that nothing happened to someone important to him because he thought that Taliesin was probably more important to him than Rinna was and yet…He would be very upset if Taliesin died and would readily take the opportunity to avenge him if he could but he didn't feel that same compulsion he did where Rinna was concerned. Taliesin was no better of an assassin than Rinna so what was the difference? Why did the thought of anything happening to her make him feel sick while the thought of something happening to Taliesin just filled him with a cold anger?

He would have to figure this out or otherwise get past it because this desire to protect Rinna wasn't going to do anybody any good, not even her.

Caunira Surana could kill a man with a gesture from hundreds of feet away. She could take out a dozen darkspawn at a time and on the off-chance that she suffered a physical injury she could completely heal it in a matter of seconds. From what Wynne had said, Caunira was one of the top apprentices up at the Circle Tower and he could definitely see why. Caunira could take care of herself far better than Rinna ever could and he had no doubt that, if she so chose, she could kill him without so much as touching him. She had been the death of hundreds and would probably be the death of hundreds more before this Blight business was through.

That was why it didn't make any sense. With Rinna, at least, he felt that if it came down to it he probably would be able to defend her better than she could defend him. With Caunira, it was just the opposite. So why…why did he want to try anyway? When he saw someone (usually a long-ranged fighter or another mage or emissary since close-quarters fighters didn't often get close to her) going after her in a fight, he went after them without a second thought. If someone got close enough to attack her with a sword or a dagger then they were losing a head and if any of them actually managed to wound her…well, they usually ended up regretting that.

For all of that, though, he knew that it was absolutely unnecessary. She had been managing just fine even when it was just her, Alistair, Morrigan, and the dog and she would continue to manage fine even if…when the day came that they were no longer travelling together. More often than not, it was Caunira who was freezing an enemy that was about to land a blow on him. And as far as protection went, she was the one with the skills and the reputation to keep the Crows from coming after him while he could do nothing to stop the darkspawn or the humans from trying to kill her.

And yet…and yet it almost felt like Rinna all over again. He still wanted to hide her away so she wouldn't get hurt, he still wanted to hurt whatever had hurt her, and he still wanted to run to her side and fight her enemies. Unlike with Rinna, however, he actually did. Unlike with Rinna, there were no Crows or unwritten rules holding him back.

Zevran still couldn't figure it out and he was starting to doubt that he'd ever get past it but maybe…maybe that was okay. Caunira could take care of herself, after all, and he'd be there to try to protect her however he could regardless. He had to have learned something from that mess with Rinna and maybe that was what mistakes to avoid. Maybe this time, he could pull it off.

Maybe.

He had another chance now and it was all thanks to Caunira. He'd do whatever it took to keep her safe.


	13. Zevran and Taliesin

In only a few short hours, Zevran would be leaving Antiva, perhaps forever. As melodramatic as that sounded, it was true. He was going to the far off dog nation of Ferelden fulfilling a contract that no one else would touch. The fabled Grey Wardens had done something to anger one of the dog nobles and so they were to be brought down. As always, discretion was key, particularly as the Grey Wardens liked to believe that they could not be brought down and the Crows didn't want to start anything with them.

Zevran was looking forward to this, strangely enough. He had no idea how he would stack up against a Grey Warden and from what he had heard there were at least two. In all probability, he would die. If he should happen to live, though, he would have cemented his reputation as one of the rising stars in the Crows. If he couldn't be free of them then he might as well be celebrated by them.

Rinna was gone and no one cared. He was still here and still no one cared. If he died in Ferelden, no one would care about that either. Well…almost. Taliesin was being surprisingly difficult about the whole thing and despite Zevran's best efforts to avoid him, he was striding purposely towards him at this very second.

"Well?" Taliesin demanded. "Is that it, then? Were you really planning on not even saying goodbye before you go off to those barbarians?"

Zevran allowed himself a moment to appreciate the irony of a man who was a part of an assassin-run nation calling anyone else a barbarian. "Of course not, Taliesin!" he lied.

Taliesin was unconvinced. "Oh really. So why have you been avoiding me then?"

"I haven't been avoiding you," Zevran denied. "I've just been busy." And if he had been avoiding him it certainly wouldn't have had anything to do with his part in the Rinna debacle and Zevran's subsequent internal conflict.

"I see." Taliesin clearly didn't believe him but evidently had more important things to discuss. Oh joy. "I spoke with one of the masters. They said that given the importance of this contract you were allowed complete freedom to pick your own team." He seemed to be waiting for something.

"I am," Zevran agreed cautiously.

"I also learned that you intend to go by yourself," Taliesin said flatly. "What, do you think you can take multiple Wardens on by yourself? Are you really that full of yourself?"

Zevran allowed himself a small smile. "Ah, no. Even I have limits to my confidence although I trust that you shall keep that just between us."

"I give you my honor as an assassin," Taliesin said solemnly.

"Taliesin…assassins have no honor," Zevran reminded him. "That's rather the point."

"Bards have honor, don't they?" Taliesin asked rhetorically.

Zevran shrugged. "I wouldn't know. If that's true, that's terribly foolish of them."

"Only the most civilized assassinations are permitted in civilized old Orlais," Taliesin declared adopting the most ridiculous Orlesian accent.

Zevran chuckled. "Oh, how could I forget?"

"Why are you going alone?" Taliesin asked abruptly, bringing them back on subject.

"I thought that I could hire a team there," Zevran explained. "It would be cheaper to not have to worry about paying for a team to move to Ferelden and back and having only one Crow would be less conspicuous."

"So maybe having a huge group with you wouldn't be the best plan," Taliesin conceded. "But still, the road to Ferelden will surely be dangerous and no matter how good you are, you're an assassin. You're not trained for outright confrontation and you're only one man."

"I shall be fine," Zevran insisted.

"Zevran…please. Take me with you," Taliesin requested.

Zevran tilted his head. Now that was an interesting idea. He had actually been on a job when the Grey Warden contract had been accepted by the Crows at large while Taliesin had not been. He had had his chance to accept the contract before Zevran had even returned but he, like the rest, had turned it down. It didn't seem likely that Taliesin would have suddenly changed his mind and they had finally outgrown that stage where they had to upstage each other in everything so that couldn't have been his motivation either.

"Why would you want that?" Zevran asked simply.

"You might be a little hard-pressed to kill them all yourself," Taliesin answered. "And who knows what kind of dog backup you'll find in Ferelden? The two of us, though? We're unstoppable. Those Wardens will be dead before they even know that we're there." Typical bravado from Taliesin. Zevran wondered whether he truly believed it would be that easy.

"Just the two of us?" Zevran pressed.

Taliesin nodded. "Absolutely. Don't want too many people holding us back and trying to take all the glory."

As if there was any glory in being an assassin. Zevran wished he could ask whether Taliesin knew that but that would be revealing too much. They hadn't spoken of the night when Zevran had fully realized just how little glory there was in there line of work. "Now that is a thought…" he mused slowly. "And I'm sure that we could have fun on such a trip but, alas, I'm afraid that I must decline."

Taliesin almost looked upset. "But why?"

Because he didn't want Taliesin to interfere and prevent him from finding his ending. Because he didn't want his actions to cost Taliesin his life. Because he still couldn't quite meet Taliesin's eyes and if they spent enough time together then the other man was sure to notice and to force him to explain.

Zevran smirked at his long-time friend. "Because I'd hate for you to steal any of my glory."


	14. Jealousy

Ahria Tabris kissed him softly and Zevran could feel a burning stare on his back. She giggled and then practically floated off to her tent. Zevran watched her go for a moment before turning to the semi-hidden observer.

Alistair was still staring at the spot where Ahria had been standing. There was a dark look in his eyes and he was absentmindedly shredding the rose in his hand. Zevran vaguely wondered where he had found such a thing as he hadn't noticed any of that kind of flower during his time with the Wardens. Perhaps it had been found earlier and Morrigan or – more likely – Wynne had preserved it for him.

"Hello, Alistair," Zevran greeted. "Lovely evening, isn't it?"

Alistair shrugged noncommittally.

"What are you still doing up?" Zevran continued, completely undeterred by the less than encouraging response.

Alistair mumbled something indistinct.

"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch that," Zevran said apologetically.

Alistair cleared his throat. "I was planning on talking to Ahria."

"So why didn't you?" Zevran pressed. "I know that she and I had been talking for awhile but you could have caught her before she turned in."

Another shrug. "I wasn't really in the mood to talk by that point."

Oh, so Alistair was perfectly capable of giving hints but refused to take them, was that it? Was Zevran going to have to actually come out and ask the other man about his jealousy? Well, if Alistair could ignore such blatant hints than Zevran could feel free to as well.

"But I noticed that you were waiting there for at least twenty minutes," Zevran reasoned. "If you did not wish to speak to Ahria after all, why wait?"

"So you knew that I was right there?" Alistair demanded, suddenly angry.

Zevran tilted his head. "Of course I did. In the assassin business, not paying attention to your surrounding means that if you don't happen to get killed then you at least deserved to be."

"I…see…" Alistair said in the same uncertain tone he always used when Zevran spoke of his background. "Why didn't you say anything then?"

"Ahria and I were talking," Zevran explained. "And if you needed to speak with her you could have either come up to her right then or waited as you chose to do. I had assumed that if it were more important than what I was saying you would have felt comfortable interrupting."

Alistair frowned but said nothing.

Trust a Ferelden to make him be blunt despite the way that that was screaming against all of his hard-learned instincts. These people were his allies for now and his protectors; he really did not need them to wish him dead. "I haven't known Ahria long-"

"Doesn't seem like it," Alistair muttered under his breath.

Zevran wisely chose to let that go. "And so I was interested in hearing your opinion of our illustrious leader. I understand that you were actually the Senior Warden and no matter how much you might hate to lead, I'm sure that you wouldn't put someone completely inept in charge."

"Maybe, maybe not," Alistair said vaguely. "Ahria isn't incompetent, though, not nearly."

"Then what is she?" Zevran prompted.

A small smile broke over Alistair's face as he thought about her. "She's…she's just great. She's really pretty and she knows how to wield daggers better than anyone I've ever met. She's the most stubborn woman I know and without her I doubt I would have made it past Lothering. I didn't even have a plan until she suggested the treaties, you know. I probably would have given my life trying to defend that little town and ending up not really doing much good."

"You like her," Zevran said gently.

Alistair started. "O-of course I like her. She's my fellow Warden and the best friend I've ever had."

Zevran stayed silent, waiting.

Alistair fidgeted under the elf's stare. Finally, he continued with, "And so maybe there have been times when I've thought about her like…that but practically the first thing I learned about her was that – and I quote – she'd 'rather slit my own throat with a rusty spoon than even consider ever touching a human.' I think it might be because of whatever happened when she was recruited but she doesn't like talking about it."

Zevran nodded his agreement. Ahria hadn't told him either but that made sense. Even the elves who were insistent on mating with other elves so as to make sure to not have a human child usually weren't that vehement about it without reason. "So there really is no hope?"

Alistair laughed bitterly. "No, none. Even if it weren't for you, she'd prefer the rusty spoon to me no matter how close we might get."

Zevran really wasn't sure what to say. 'I'm sorry'? It seemed appropriate for the situation but he really wasn't. He liked Ahria and was glad that she wasn't interested in Alistair and wouldn't be interested in Leliana either.

"I-I am glad that she's not alone, though," Alistair said hesitantly. "I mean, I'd prefer that I could be with her but since I can't…I just want her to be happy."

Zevran examined Alistair closely, trying to gauge his sincerity. Satisfied with what he found, he gave a brief nod. "You're a good man, Alistair." He wondered if he would be that dignified if he ever found himself in that kind of a situation. Not, of course, that he ever planned on allowing himself to get into that kind of a situation but there were so many things about his life that were completely unplanned that it was best not to rule anything out.

Alistair's face twisted into a mirthless smile. "Lucky me."


End file.
